Oh Brother
by MidnightBebe104
Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki has a major problem in the form of his new stepbrother Byakuya Kuchiki. When an opportunity to finally level the playing field pops up, exposing one of Byakuya's hardest kept secrets in the midst, Ichigo finds himself surprised by his own reaction. AU Yaoi Swearing Seme!Ichigo
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Bleach.

**AN:** Story will be working with _young_ Byakuya, because who wouldn't want to work with that hot-headed baby? Refer to episode 208.

Keeping this one lighthearted (hopefully ^^;) and uh, let's have some fun, neh?

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**Chapter One**

Ichigo could tolerate many things. He really could.

But as of late, his sensibility had begun to reach it's goddamn peak.

"This is all my stuff..."

"Precisely."

"_Why_ is this all my stuff?"

The tips of Ichigo's CDs peaked from beneath the bushel of clothing and gear tossed negligently to one side of the room. He griped at the sight of his favorite autographed poster crumpled amongst the array.

The brunette occupying Ichigo's desk said nothing.

The desk, Ichigo noticed, had been stripped of everything besides a few unfamiliar books and a small lampshade. A new bed sat across from his own and the walls were now about as slate as the bastard he knew to be responsible for this.

"What the _hell_ is this?"

The other teen calmly removed his reading glasses, waved the black ponytail from his shoulder and fixed his eye on Ichigo, the grey eyes paralleling only a slab of concrete in rigid austerity.

"_This,_ is my side of the bedroom." He gestured behind him. "_That, _is yours." Towards the heap. "Can your simple brain make sense of that without use of a diagram?"

Ichigo felt the veins in his face throb. The simplicity and cheekiness bestowed upon the statement was enough to have his fists itching for some contact. But he steeled himself. The boy was skilled at provoking him. And if he hadn't been sure his retort would only work at tickling the brat's fancy, he might have tore him a new one. Thus he was well aware in an exchange of words against him, he'd seldom emerge victorious.

Byakuya Kuchiki, his new step-brother and the new bane of his very existence. Ichigo was sure if he'd committed any crimes in a previous life, this was retribution.

Every last bit of Ichigo's materialistic possessions had been swept clear of their assigned posts and splayed across the floor like a pile of worthless rubbish, his chests and drawers crammed against what was now '_his'_ wall, and treasured collectibles mounted atop his heavily jumbled bed.

Ichigo knew he'd been entirely too naive to have expected no less.

Upon being informed of the need for him to share his room with his stepbrother as his own bedroom underwent renovations, Ichigo had braced himself for the worst. But the worst didn't compare to the reality of having such pompous brat within such close proximities. It had taken no more than a day and the bastard had found a way to lurch beneath his skin like a mite.

Byakuya resumed his previous task, brushing off the seething redhead, whose eyes, thick in bitter acrimony, continued to heatedly scour the room.

Ichigo gasped when his vision fell on the familiar gap atop his far drawer.

"Where's my TV?" He gaped at the empty space, tumbling back a few steps. "My TV, _where _is it?

"Useless distraction." was the clear-cut response provided.

"Useless dist...my...TV...?"

He'd kill him. Now more than ever, he was sure he would.

But with almost uncanny convenience, his name rung out from downstairs, desisting Ichigo's imperative backlashing.

"Ichigo!"

It was his mother. And from the sound of it, something was up.

Jaw clenched, he allowed himself one final glare at the demon now dwelling his bedroom, before splitting and leaving the door to shudder in his stead, though he could've sworn, in his doing, that he'd seen the slightest tilt of the brunette's lips.

Ichigo practically head-dove down the stairs and into the kitchen where his mother, alongside his stepfather, perused through a small box of god-knows-what atop the counter. Their backs were to him but they quickly turned upon his brazen entry.

"Ma! My room! - he...my _goddamn_ room!" Ichigo spewed unintelligibly, anger radiating from him like a steam pipe.

It was then that his eyes caught sight of what exactly his parents had been so keenly inspecting and his mouth hinged open.

"Ichigo, what exactly is this?" His mother held out a thick magazine twixt her fingers, the cover reading "Hard-knockers" and displaying a well-endowed woman, breasts out, and spread-eagled across the page.

Slack-jawed, eyes still unavoidably latched onto the barely-clad woman he'd relieved himself to on so few occasions, his mind drew an absolute blank.

"Ichigo?"

Without a thought he snatched the pamphlet from his mother's hands, tucking it stupidly behind his back as though that would suffice in covering up for the plenty others still crammed within the box.

"That's not..." He tried, but his mother simply shook her head, palming at her temples.

What the hell was even happening? His luck couldn't possibly be this pathetically bleak.

Sojun rested against the counter with a pitiful expression that clearly sympathized with the teen. But that only spiked Ichigo's desire to burrow into the nearest hole.

His mother walked towards him, placed a hand atop his shoulder.

"Sweetie," Ichigo mentally groaned at the approaching speech. "I understand you're growing up and your hormones may be -"

"Not this ma..."

He wondered how long it would take him to swim to China.

"But these sorts of things are demeaning towards women. How can you expect yourself to find a good girl when you're harboring such indecent things in your own home?"

_Was that a rhetorical question? _Either way, he remained silent.

"What if your sisters were to have come across this?" she asked with such tangible concern Ichigo had actually begun to feel somewhat guilty. "Now, I'm going to toss these out, and I want you to think about just what these type of things symbolize."

Ichigo's brow unavoidably quirked.

Sexual gratification, visual stimuli, boobs? He could think of plenty, none of which involved any reason to have them tossed out. But he digressed, because what the hell could he even say? Let me keep my porn ma? Not likely. And so in spite of himself, he tossed the magazine inside the wastebasket, with no desire to further prolong such unwanted - and frankly embarrassing- discussion that had managed to peg his dignity down a few notches.

His mother shot him a satisfied smile.

One more notch.

"I'm proud of you sweetie."

He moaned in displeasure when she patted him atop the head like a pup.

How did his mother even get her hands on those? he wondered. He was sure he'd had them tucked away discretely, expertly even, if he allowed himself the time to brag. The idea that his mother had gone sifting through his things left a sour taste in his mouth and was about as far-fetched as they came, but no one else had access-

But that was it wasn't it?

Ichigo felt the heat surge beneath his skin as though he'd just been tossed dead smack in the middle of the Sahara.

Blood boiling, and temperament at about the same degree that drove many sociopaths to commit their heinous crimes, Ichigo stormed out of the kitchen and out the door -unconsciously throwing a hefty F-bomb he knew he'd be reprimanded for later.

_"Your brother will be sharing your room for the time being..."_

_"Your brother..."_

_"Your..."_

"Agh!" Ichigo griped, ruffling his hair roughly.

At the time he'd brushed it off, X that, he'd helplessly resigned. Because what real say did he have on the matter? No pleading would change the outcome, and after some unavailing spit loss, ultimately he'd have still ended up forced to give up the only space that _was_ truly his for the brat who felt compelled to berate and stomp over his existence every viable opportunity he got. And he was doing a damn good job.

Ichigo had already been bereft of his home, of his routine. Tossed into his mother's new marriage, new life. A new 'father', new 'siblings' - one of which under the right circumstances he was sure he'd pulverize to dust. All to accommodate his mother's wishes. He was beginning to think this entire situation was just a one-sided scheme to take every even remotely fulfilling aspect of his life and turn it to goddamn mush.

How hadn't he figured sooner anyway? Of course the little bastard would rat him out. _Again. _He was like a well-trained hound, that brat was. In the eight months since arriving at the Kuchiki residence Ichigo had managed to acquire his own personal nanny cam in the form of a pretentious seventeen year old who took pride in making his life a virtual hell.

He could never figure what fueled the kid's baseless hatred. And after a month of shameless ass kissing in order to solidify the relationship with his new 'brother' -he now cringed at the thought- Ichigo had resolutely given up.

Byakuya wanted nothing to do with him, and truth be told neither did he. They'd been forced into this situation anyway and no amount of feigning would change the reality that they were just two innocent bystanders unwillingly caught in the crossfires of their parent's relationship.

A year after his parent's divorce had finalized, his mother had met Sojun Kuchiki. A well-established architect with a kind heart and two kids of his own. Ichigo'd had no qualms with the man, though he often wished he did. In sorts, it felt like its own form of betrayal towards his father. But he couldn't come to hate the guy. There was nothing dislikable about him. He was methodical and strong in his endeavors, yet compassionate and mellow in his relations, with such a gentle disposition Ichigo could barely help not marrying the guy himself.

But his kid, that was a different story. And often a times he wondered where genetics had gone awry. Excluding Rukia, Sojun's sixteen year old daughter, and with whom surprisingly Ichigo had found himself easily relating to, vanity took shape in the form of Byakuya Kuchiki. Top of the class, prodigal intelligence, and an aura of absolute refinement; it'd be easy to mistake him for an actually decent human being. Not Ichigo of course, but someone, somewhere, he was sure. Someone blissfully unaware of the evil seething beneath those beguiling grey eyes.

Ichigo's plans to ignore the male till the day he split for college were completely and utterly hashed. Especially now, with Byakuya so willfully rammed down his throat Ichigo was sure he'd start upchucking equations on his behalf. Now that he'd be breathing and sleeping _his_ air. Did the bastard even sleep? he wondered. It seemed more befitting of him to lay in wake awaiting to suck the souls of the innocent living.

Ichigo sighed weightily, continuing his trek beneath the hot sun.

If ever he'd been dealt some bad cards.

OOO

"Man that sucks." His friend Renji expressed his half-assed condolence between fits of laughter from where he sat cross-legged in front of the television screen. His attention only half on his video game in lieu of listening to Ichigo's painful recap.

Shiro however, the albino beside Renji, seemed entirely too unamused. Scowling, he chucked one of the cartridges at Ichigo's head.

"Half o' those were mine ya dipshit." he whined. "Ya better be plannin' on payin' me back for those."

Ichigo blankly rubbed at the spot, too piqued over his own dealings to even remotely care.

He chugged down the last remaining bit of soda, tossed it aside, and dropped back atop his friend's bed, watching the ceiling fan whirl in silent regard.

The day's unraveling had drained him, any hopes he'd held of skimming through this unfortunate period in his life unscathed had been firmly sucked out of him.

One more. One more year till college and he'd be home free.

"Honestly, I don't know how you can even put up with that." Renji commented. "If I were you i'd long beat the little shit to a pulp."

Shiro scoffed. "Hell, i'll even do it for ya."

"Heh. I didn't know you cared so much about my wellbeing." Ichigo said teasingly, rolling over onto his stomach and tucking a pillow beneath his chin.

"Yer wellbeing?" The teen barked a laugh. "Please. The little fuck's ta blame for what happened ta my babies ain't he?" -babies referring to the magazines he so very much favored.

Ichigo scratched at his nape, fingers catching onto few bits of his orange hair.

"Anyway, s'not like there's anything I can do. I can't exactly lay a finger on him."

As though the prospect hadn't crossed his mind. He couldn't do that to his mother, or even Sojun for that matter, regardless of how much he wanted to. And damn it all did he.

This war had to be played silent, sneaky. That's how you handled a snake.

But this was one hell of a crafty one.

Renji turned to face him. The heavily tattooed red-head took a swig of his drink, few droplets dripping onto his dark t-shirt as he did so. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "So what're ya gonna do?"

"Hell should I know."

Shiro jumped over the couch he'd been lounging on, landing heavily atop the bed and pressing his index finger against the bridge of Ichigo's nose, tauntingly.

"Looks ta me like yer gonna be this kid's bitch till ya get the hell up outta that place."

There was probably some truth in that, Ichigo bitterly admitted.

"And he's just gonna keep havin' a blast exposin' all yer little tidbits. Really man yer acting like such a pussy. 'Member that time he told on ya for skipping out o-"

"That's it, ain't it?" Renji blurted, cutting short the mid-sentenced albino who was none-too-pleased with the heedless interruption. "There has to be something you too can nail 'im on. No one's that squeaky clean."

Ichigo lifted a brow. It was as though he hadn't met Byakuya. The bastard was spotless. Ichigo was sure even his shits came out disinfected and flushed _themselves_ down the can.

"Look," Renji too vaulted over the couch, propped himself beside the bed. "You do a little diggin' and once you find the dirt, ya milk it for all its fuckin' worth."

"Then ya sock 'im with a wrench!" Shiro posed brilliantly.

"What makes you think I haven't tried?" Ichigo heaved a heavy breath. "Not that one." he added to the grinning Shiro who slumped back dejectedly at his response. "Don't you get it? There's nothing. Spick and spam the little fuck."

And he _had_ tried. Of course he had. It'd naturally been his first resort. Fight fire with fire was it? Unfortunately for him his flame was a bit too dim.

Both his friend's sighed in unison.

"Well whatever man." Renji crossed his arms behind his head and leant against the bed frame. "Then you're fucked."

Shiro snorted. He bounced off the bed with a grunt. "Yo ren, 'least call some girls over now will ya? Let's commemorate the death of our lil Ichi's balls-"

Ichigo dug his face inside the pillow.

"- They were a good little pair, once upon a time~"

This was next year of his life would be spent squashed beneath a snub pair of dainty soles.

_Great._

OOO

Ichigo tugged at the white shirt careening into the small of his sweat-slicked back.

Though the sun had long begun it's descend and now waned lazily across the horizon, the heat was unusually thick, making Ichigo's return an irritable one.

He could see his home approaching in the distant. It's contemporary scheme and sheer size proving prominent amongst the other homes. Mr. Kuchiki really was amazing. It'd been nearly a year since their arrival and Ichigo still found himself marveling over the place's beauty.

As he neared the front steps, Ichigo's eyes, much to his dismay, caught sight of Byakuya exiting the home across from theirs.

He nearly sputtered when he watched their neighbor, Mrs. Kyoraku, also leap from within and wrap Byakuya in a mighty embrace.

So the guy could actually experience physical contact without burning to a crisp?

He could only stand in bafflement at the discovery that someone would actually feel _inclined_ to hug such a person, when the mere idea made Ichigo's stomach downright churn.

Ichigo stifled a gasp when Byakuya met his peeping gaze and he quickly averted his eyes - though not before shooting him a well-deserved fuck-you glance - and quickening his steps.

"Good evening Ichigo!" The kind woman greeted from afar.

Ichigo stopped, turned to face her, careful not to clash eyes again with the little bastard eagle beside her.

"Ah...good evening."

A quick awkward wave and he was back en route, entering the home and swinging the door shut behind him.

Immediately upon entering, Ichigo was ambushed by his prancing little sister. "Ichi-ni!" she welcomed him, enthusiasm oozing from each skip and hop. Yuzu grabbed him by the arm and tugged. "Come see the new dance I learned at Ururu's!"

"Sure, sure." he chuckled, allowing the small hands to lead him to the living room.

Rukia and his sister Karin where already assembled on the couch. Karin, blissfully lost on her handheld and Rukia, legs crossed, and knee-deep in one of the psychology textbooks Ichigo was sure she'd later use to dissect each and every one of his concurrent mannerisms, as she so often felt inclined.

Their parents were apparently still out, something Ichigo took great comfort in. He didn't know how he could even face them after the day's earlier events.

Rukia's gaze rose from her book to greet Ichigo, hand swaying back the strands of inky black hair that had strayed across her eye.

"So I stumbled upon your room earlier..." She smiled.

Ichigo huffed a sigh and plopped down beside the girl.

Rukia never saw fit to mask her thorough enjoyment of his and Byakuya's unwarranted feud. He could only rationalize it having something to with just how bleak of an environment she'd been forced to live beneath till their arrival. Her father naturally occupied in his work, Rukia's only other option would have had to be the male who could make a snail look lively. While the siblings did seem to get along reasonably well, Byakuya's withdrawn and frigid nature could clearly weigh on anyone. In any case, things had certainly become more spirited, at least for her. Though Ichigo wasn't so thrilled that the entertainment came at his expense.

"Don't remind me."

Ichigo dipped his head back, resting his arm across his eyes.

"Don't worry. I'm sure he'll stop short of shipping you to Tijuana."

He sprung up, wide-eyed, and tossed one of the sofa cushions at the snickering girl. Somehow he didn't find the comment difficult to believe or even slightly amusing.

"What the hell's his problem anyway?" Ichigo muttered, now resting his elbow atop his knee, and chin on palm.

He watched as Yuzu layered herself in a frilly tutu.

"Beats me." Rukia shrugged. "Seems to just genuinely hate you. Maybe it's your hair." She pricked a single strand from his head and held it before her eyes as though in deep observation. "Did you know orange hair symbolizes villainy and corruption in some cultures?"

Ichigo scoffed, shoving the girl and causing her to lose grip of the orange strand. Rukia laughed as she rubbed her forearm.

After a few seconds, unconsciously running his hand through his hair, Ichigo sheepishly mumbled, "...really?"

This only prompted the girl to laugh even harder.

It was at that time that Byakuya emerged from the doorway, disposition still about as dry as month-old bread.

The brunette acknowledged Rukia's greeting with a curt nod, thankfully declining her invitation to join them, before withdrawing upstairs and vanishing promptly.

"Hnn..." Rukia pouted disappointedly, clearly peeved at having missed the opportunity for a first-row seat of the Ichigo-Byakuya collision fest. "He's been spending so much time over at Nanao-san's."

Ichigo shrugged. Like he cared. The longer he was there, the less he'd be here. Ultimately a win win situation for everyone.

"Okay! I'm ready!" Yuzu chirped from the middle of the room. "Karin!" She gestured the girl to flick on the small electronic radio beside her.

A colorful tune quickly filled the room, the music driving the small girl in a jamboree of twirls and bows and jumps and moves Ichigo couldn't even begin to describe or even vaguely understand. But in no time, they were all engaged in a frenzy of hoots and claps, feet infectiously tapping to the rhythm.

It was roughly ten when they all finally dispersed. Yuzu and Karin having done so earlier on account of the early rising for tomorrow's school day.

Rukia nudged Ichigo a few times along the stairs.

"Remember, one eye open." She joked, moseying off towards her bedroom at the opposite end of the hallway and simmering inside with a shoot of her tongue.

"Hah-hah." he voiced sarcastically, flicking her the finger, and alongside a groan of distaste, settling inside his own room for the night.

He could hear the water running from within the bathroom and sighed in silent appreciation.

_Great. Now stay there till you shrivel. _

Ichigo peeled off his shirt, casting it to the side and groaned as he glimpsed over at the mountainous heap beside his bed. He pulled one of his favorite posters from beneath the rubble, waving it out a few times and noticing a few chinks around its edges aside from the heavy wrinkles.

He clicked his tongue, straightening out the poster as much he could before resting it atop his drawer.

With one swift motion, he swept his arm across his sheets, dragging all the clutter from his bed onto the floor. Fuck this. He was tired. He was pissed. And the sooner he closed his eyes, the sooner he could forget he'd be sleeping near parallel to this godforsaken plague.

As Ichigo sat atop his bed, wrenching off his sneakers, Byakuya ambled out of the bathroom, towel draped loosely around his slim hip, his lengthy black mane drenched and splayed across his shoulders and back.

Both teens exchanged warring glances, the amusement swimming heavily in Byakuya's eyes only working to further rouse Ichigo's maiming instincts.

Really, he gravelly doubted he'd be able to get through this situation without clobbering him at least once.

Byakuya brushed Ichigo aside, strolling off to his own drawer alongside _'his'_ side of the bedroom and browsing its contents.

Scowl bared, Ichigo was about to finally drop back onto his mattress when his eyes -upon the brunette's sudden angling towards his direction- fell on few distinct markings staining a good portion of Byakuya's lower collar and chest. And he didn't have to be a goddamn dermatologist to recognize what they were. Hell, he'd left plenty of those behind himself at one time or another.

Cringing at the prospect entailed within the not-so-subtle markings, Ichigo pried his wondering eye from the boy's skin, turning on his side and facing the wall.

Burrowing the side of his face against his pillow, he felt a queasy shiver whip through him. He withheld a scoff, forcing the disturbing idea out of his mind.

_Che. Yeah right. _


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own Bleach.

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**Chapter Two**

Ichigo woke with a snap. The feeling of a much too warm, much too vibrant sun smacking him across the face hard enough to stir him out of his peaceful slumber.

His eyes flickered to the alarm clock atop his d-

Where the hell was his alarm clock?

Scrambling to his feet, hand raking through his unruly hair, and sleep still too unbecomingly thick in his system, Ichigo noticed the bed beside his was now tidily arranged with no sign of its occupant.

'You've gotta be kidding me..." he mumbled in forced incredulity.

Quickly, he stumbled out of his bedroom, rushing downstairs and stopping short of dry-swallowing the kitchen counter. The kitchen was, as he'd dreaded, barren. The kitchen clock, however, stared back at him in contempt.

Ichigo cursed loudly, hightailing it back upstairs and reading himself as fast he could, before fumbling out the door with a slice of bread hanging limply from his mouth.

OOO

"I'm sorry Ichigo!" Rukia apologized for the umpteenth time now as she trudged behind the bristling orangette who was glaring daggers at the world. But Ichigo was having none of it.

He could waste his time wondering just how no one in his household had felt even moderately inclined to wake him this morning, or even noticed when he failed to do so himself, but it'd be a waste of time. Because somehow he felt he already knew the answer and hell if he didn't feel his knuckles throb.

"Masaki-san asked nii-sama if you'd already left, and he said he hadn't seen you. I assumed you'd gone ahead of me." she tried to explain but Ichigo quickly cut her short, turning on his heels and inching his face close to hers.

"Of _course_ he wouldn't fucking see me Rukia!" he exclaimed heatedly. "How - would - he - _see me_?!"

Unless directly busting his chops, it was clear the other percentage of the time Ichigo may as well _have _been invisible to the guy. Of course for his convenience and sheer spite he may have doubled the efforts today.

Rukia sheepishly shifted her gaze downward and to the side. "Either way," she mumbled. "You've always woken up on your own."

"Yeah! When _my_ room was _my _room! And not that little demon's new lodging!"

Ichigo exhaled exasperatedly, urging his raging insides back into composure.

"Look," he started tensely. "I'm sorry. It's just... It's been a bad morning, alright?"

After arriving two periods into the school day, Ichigo'd been subjected to sit through one of his gym teacher Zaraki's much too passionately aggressive scoldings over having the _'goddamn audacity_' to ditch half his class, between such monstrous spittles of saliva Ichigo'd bitten back the urge to begin breast-stroking. In sum, Ichigo was now required to run laps for the guy during his study period. He could shit bricks from excitement.

He resumed his pace again, trudging bitterly amongst his classmate's bodies and towards his following class.

"I'm sorry..." Rukia continued mumbling from behind.

"It's fine."

He was at least thankful he'd managed to show up before chemistry class. Honest to god if he missed another of Mr. Kurotsuchi's lectures, the man would have his head. He was already only barely making the grade by the very skin of his teeth. Though in his defense science had never really been a forte of his. And to cap up, the bastard plain out gave him the creeps.

After a short thoughtful hum, Rukia suddenly chirped, "Oh I know!" Catching up to Ichigo she tugged at his sleeves a few times. "I think they're serving pudding today. You like pudding right? I owe you some pudding!"

"Rukia, that's not..." he started but before he could finish the girl had already skedaddled off, purposefully pushing past the hordes of students making their way towards their preordained classes and shooting him a final thumbs up.

Ichigo sighed tiredly, rubbing the side of his neck, and continued on his route. The girl's ability to completely ignore anything not to her benefit was one of a kind.

OOO

Chemistry class went by, as always, in a blur. Names he couldn't remember, symbols he couldn't understand, squiggles and lines and dots and numbers -why the hell were there numbers here? - and Mr. Kurotsuchi shooting him the evil eye whenever he caught him begin to even remotely doze off. Ichigo was sure he was first on the man's list of future test subjects.

Afterwards Ichigo begrudgingly made his way to the yard where Zaraki waited for him beneath the hot sun with a curdling grin oozing satisfaction at watching his new incoming victim. Damn it all if the guy didn't look like a well-established crook.

A class was already engaged in aerobics in the middle of the track field, few other students in a tennis match to its far side and the remaining batch by the volleyball courts.

"Kurosaki!" he called out gruffly, arms tightly crossed before his chest, an ill-fitting grey crew-neck hugging his bulky physique. "Pick up the pace!"

Ichigo did so, not looking forward to facing the man's unsightly wrath.

"Now," Zaraki began when Ichigo was within a foot of distance. The man apparently felt the need to tighten the gap, and edged closer. "You're gonna run me these laps for the entirety of these fifty minutes. And I want no dilly-dallying either. You're gonna run till you can't run no more. Do I make myself clear?"

His spit graciously coated Ichigo's skin, few droplets managing to waft into his eye.

"I said, _do I make myself clear?!" _

"Crystal." Ichigo muttered with forcibly honed composure. And the bastard must've caught on because he only smirked his toothy grin and found a way to inch even closer. "_Good_." he slowly said. "Now..._get going!" _

Ichigo didn't need another word, he was off, hand swiping angrily at the foreign moisture layering most of his face. With the fiery temperament of a fucking rhino and such clear sadistic tendencies he may as well have donned a whip and chain, the man knew how to instill the fear of god in them. Ichigo often wondered how the hell such a man had even cleared background checks when, to all seeing eyes, the man was borderline psychotic. Nevertheless, no one questioned him. They obeyed and bit back their disdain, steering clear of the man's inevitable unhinging.

The noon sun was high and mighty, making the run far more intolerable than Ichigo'd expected. Few times he was forced to use his hand as a visor to shield the hot rays, other times he slowed his pace - only to be reprimanded shortly after by the large oaf observing him like a beady hawk and who wouldn't be satisfied till Ichigo's legs were lava.

Summer break couldn't rear its head early enough. School was already riding far enough up his ass as it stood and it didn't help when a certain nuisance also made any reprieve at home impossible. He figured with how magnificently things were currently going, he'd probably spend the break over at his father's. The escape was heavily called for and he surprisingly found himself even missing the big goof and his unwarranted _tough _love. The man didn't take himself so seriously, something Ichigo never thought he'd miss till now. Especially when everyone around him seemed to be perpetually marching with hefty logs shoved up their narrow bums -one in particular that took the cake.

Ichigo's attention was jerked by a volleyball that suddenly gunned across the field before him. He stopped and turned towards where it'd originated, catching a familiar brunette pounding dirt towards it. And he cursed his luck for the hundredth time today.

Byakuya sped in his direction. The boy's hair was now bound in a neat and tight ponytail. There was a certain fluidity and stoutness to his gait, and even his gym wear -same standard bland navy jersey shorts and white tee as the rest of them- clung to his body in a way that commanded a type of awe. Fuck, did it piss Ichigo off. The bastard was flawless.

The teen slowed as he neared him, a dewy layer of sweat strewn across his face, alongside a newly surfaced smirk tilting at the thin lips.

He bent down to pick the ball, slyly remarking as he stood,

"You realize you cannot outrun your own idiocy, don't you?"

Ichigo's veins pulsed. The brat was enjoying this.

"You litt-"

"Byakuya." Someone interrupted. A bespectacled brunette called out from the court. Ichigo recognized him as the student body president, Ishida... Ishida something. Ukyu, Ryeu, Paul? He didn't care. Just another rigidly stuck up brat, with a holier-than-thou air and a serious god complex. Birds of a feather was it?

With not as much as another sideward glance, Byakuya sped off, leaving a small trail of dust to gather in his leave and Ichigo's words to ferment in his throat.

"Oi! Kurosaki! Did I say you could stop? _Get moving_!" Kenpachi hollered from afar.

Teeth gritted, and nerves back down the shit-hole, he shot one final glare at the court, only to find the Ishida kid still zoned in on him. Glaring even?

_'What the fuck?'_

Was he emitting some type of douchebag-inducing pheromone lately? He withheld the urge to sniff his pits for confirmation and resumed his sprint, much more heatedly than before.

OOO

By the time lunch came about, Ichigo welcomed it with open arms. His feet were sore, mood spent, and his body was now the same consistency as Jello. His eyes closed as he rested his back against a large tree in the courtyard. As the sunlight warmed the inside of his lids, Ichigo could almost feel himself begin to relax.

_Almost. _

But the topic of choice that now commanded the conversation amongst his friends, spiked a raw nerve.

"Do you know if he's dating someone?" Renji peskily wondered again through mouthfuls of his lunch.

"Does it matter?"

While he had unconsciously casted out the small detail regarding last night's unnerving discovery as a sarcastic joke amid his avid badmouthing of the imp who'd yet again succeeded in plowing his spirits, Ichigo never expected his friends to become so goddamn taken with the matter.

"Jus' seems kinda impossible don't it?" Renji gurgled a laugh. "'sides things like that don't just pop up outta nowhere."

It was _incredibly_ reassuring to know that if given a choice between lightening his spirits or ferreting out whether Byakuya's prick had found a suitable host, his friends would choose the latter.

"It-was-a _joke. _Do you honestly believe _Byakuya _could be dating anything that actually moves?"

"So you didn't see the hickeys?"

"Yes."

"Then—"

"I mean no... maybe? How the hell should I know?" he muttered miserably, no longer caring to withhold his annoyance. By this time he'd already thoroughly sulked in his earlier misfortunes and casted his plentiful bout of damnations. All he needed now was some refuge from any thought relating to the little fuck. Especially something as irrelevant as this. "For all I know they could've been bug bites." At least that seemed far more conceivable than the alternative.

"Maybe he gave 'em ta himself. I heard sum people can actually do that. Cantooeershuunists or whatever the fuck they're called." Shiro said, sprawled out whimsically on the grass with an overzealous grin tugging at the sides of his cheeks since the very beginning of the drawn out discussion.

"_Contortionist_, you moron." Tatsuki, the pixie-haired girl beside him, shoved him with the heel of her foot. "And that's impossible."

"Aren't you curious as to what type of person Kuchiki-kun might be interested in, kurosaki-kun?" Orihime Inoue, the curvaceous girl beside Tasuki asked sweetly. Ichigo was surprised that Inoue too had allowed herself to be finagled into such trivial matters, and that her interests appeared genuinely piqued.

Ichigo sighed, and to humor the prospect, contemplated briefly. While he could naturally care less, if the person did exist -something he gravelly doubted- it'd probably be someone the guy could easily monopolize. '_Perhaps someone sweet, innocent, doting?'_

He scoffed. That'd imply that someone of the sorts would actually be interested in such a killjoy.

'_But two equally constipated personalities would probably clash.' _So that was also out.

In the end he was unable to visualize such a person. _Any _person for that matter. '_He'd probably scold her for not flossing between bites though.' _he mentally noted. And he cursed inwardly for even allowing himself to be dragged back into this.

"I think it'd be someone domineering," Tatsuki fantasized from her corner. Really, girls ate this type of shit up. "To leave such evident markings..."

Ichigo outstretched his arms before him with a hefty groan and crack of the neck.

"To be honest I don't even see how he'd make time for them. As far as I can tell, he's only ever home, -" to Ichigo's annoyance. "- school, or his stupid student council meetings."

And Ichigo would know, especially when every waking moment of his was spent hashing out ways in which to avoid him. But hell, the guy's social life was about as dry as a lifeless fucking carcass.

"S'that it?" Renji asked through another mouthful.

Ichigo thought back shortly.

"That's it. I mean, 'cept the neighbors lately. But that's-"

"Maybe it's someone in the student council!" Orihime posed brightly.

"Doubt it. There's only one girl there, and it's Chizuru."

The group mumbled a unified, 'ah'. Shiro sniggered to himself. When it came to hetero leniency, Chizuru was about as straight as a circle.

Tasuki sat up, bringing a knee up and resting her arm atop it.

"Then that leaves your neighbor, doesn't it?" she said. "What type of girl is she?"

Ichigo crooked a brow and shook his head disapprovingly.

"The only people that live there are Kyoraku-san and his wife." he disclosed, hoping it'd finally desist any further talk of the matter and he could get back to his well-deserved meditation and sun basking."And they don't have a daughter."

The group easily recognized the name as it belonged to the owner of the sweets shop they often frequented.

Instead of the turnabout Ichigo had expected, however, a strange silent befell the group, followed by an exchange of subtle glances amongst themselves and excluding Ichigo.

Inoue started playing with the ends of her lengthy orange hair, glancing down at the ground with a faint blush dusting the apples of her cheeks.

"What?" Ichigo asked, wondering what had spurred the sudden silence.

No one spoke for a moment, though Shiro broke out in a fit of laughter.

"Man that'd be too good." he cackled.

"Wouldn't that be something?" Renji followed.

"Married huh?" Tatsuki remarked with a scratch of her chin.

"How sinful..." Innoe shyly said.

Confusion thick, irritation even thicker, Ichigo's eyes darted between each of his friends.

"What the hell are you guys mumbling on about? Married what?"

It was Renji who chose to more plainly divulge the sudden atmosphere by slyly remarking, "Our little Byakuya may have a bit more going on to him than we previously thought."

"Byakuya? More to what? What are y-" Ichigo blinked, silencing suddenly. The meaning behind the shrewd quirkiness that had suddenly rendered itself amongst them finally clicking into a coherent puzzle and his mouth slackened. "Are you guys nuts? How can -"

But almost indicatively his thoughts shot back to the previous day's image of Byakuya and Nanao's unexpected embrace. And while it may have just been his own sensitivity to the compelling presumption, the little clinch appeared much more connoting now replaying in his mind than before. Nevertheless his interests were piqued.

But before he allowed himself to delve too deeply into such tempting territory, he allowed common sense to shortly take the reins. With a shake of the head, Ichigo angled forward and held his palm out. "Wait..." he began. "I'm not his babysitter. I don't know all his ins and outs or whereabouts. Can we really just narrow it down to that? Besides, what if they _were_ bug bites?"

While a tempting conclusion it was, he couldn't -regardless of how much he wanted to- take such a thing at face value. He may have hated the guy but he wouldn't allow his desire to purge him cloud his judgment. Besides, he gravelly doubted Byakuya would have the galls to engage in such risky affairs. And for that matter, who'd be interested in him anyway? Of all people, Nanao? The more he thought about it the more ludicrous it all seemed.

His friends eyed him incredulously, but it was Renji who spoke. The redhead shrugged, bringing a hand to scratch his forearm. "Okay. Maybe they _were_ bug bites."

"Those were some frisky bugs." Shiro muttered unconvinced.

Renji elbowed him in the gut and the albino cursed loudly.

"Maybe they were." he continued. "But in the off chance they weren't, ya really wanna miss this perfect opportunity to dig up some dirt and maybe finally nail the sucker? I mean, if we're right then," he laughed, inching closer into the assembly. "Hell this'd be candied goodness. Am I right? 'Sides isn't Kyoraku-san always at the shop? So who exactly is Byakuya goin' over there for?"

Ichigo rested his chin atop his crossed arms, propped onto his knee.

He couldn't help but doubt his own rationality as Renji's statement simmered in his brain and he wondered if there could actually be some truth to it. While they couldn't be too sure that such affair was actually taking place, as it was too damn outlandish of a conclusion, there was still a slim -however slim it was- chance that it could retain some validity. And if by some odd chance it _were _true_._..

Ichigo chewed on his lower lip, excitement inevitably brewing in his gut.

Then he'd finally have the little bastard in the palm of his hand, wouldn't he? The payback he'd been so desperately seeking, could it really be this simple?

Ichigo didn't have much time to continue mulling over the matter as Rukia surfaced from within the school, small cups of pudding practically spilling from her small arms.

"It's Rukia. Drop it." he quickly said. His friends nodded in understanding shifting the topic of conversation as though rehearsed.

"Ichigo!" she called excitedly, rushing towards him and pouring the desserts atop his khakis, simultaneously greeting their friends.

It took Shiro less than a second to dig a hand in and snatch out a few cups for himself.

"Reimbursement." he tipped the cup at Ichigo who understood the notion and only sighed.

Rukia settled beside Ichigo, fluttering her skirt to her sides. "So, what were we talking about?"

"Summer festival." Renji quickly piped. "Got a date yet sweet thing?" he winked and was met by an eye roll from Rukia who was much too accustomed to Renji's unyielding advances and could frankly care less.

Ichigo remained silent, staring off into space. Slanting back against the large base of the trunk, now blissfully distracted from his surroundings, a raring sprightliness began to inevitably pool at his feet.

* * *

**AN:** I love Zaraki...so chill. lol Big thanks to the beautiful lovelies who have followed, favorited or reviewed this little story of mine. :-* Till the next.


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own Bleach.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"Is there something you need?"

Ichigo craned his head skyward to the brunette questioningly eyeballing him from above, his face now nuzzling the hallway floor, body keeled over, after having had the bedroom door unexpectedly flung open during one of his not-so-covert probing sessions.

"No- uh I just, uh, never noticed what nice carpentry this place has," Ichigo cleared his throat, hand enthusiastically stroking the carpet with a superfluous amount of feigned interest. "Nice, ya know. Soft, like...goose feathers..."

Byakuya's eyes narrowed.

"Are you an idiot?" he muttered derisively, stepping over the toppled Ichigo, by the looks of it barely resisting the urge to sigh. "_Don't_ answer that." Speaking something inaudible into the phone mic, the youth stalked off with one final contemptuous sideward glance.

Ichigo sighed tiredly, head carelessly diving face-first into the floor.

Great. No finalizing information acquired from that phone call and he was now a perverse peeping tom with a bizarre love of wall-to-wall carpentry.

This entire whiff-out-the-rat venture was beginning to seriously gnaw at Ichigo's craw.

The redhead grumbled hatefully as he crawled up off the floor, dusting his kneecaps, and cracking his spine.

After his and his friend's unbidden prying into Byakuya's private affairs, Ichigo had spent the following week in a perpetual state of stakeout; having determined it was the next logical step in exposing anything that could serve as potential counterplay against the shrewd bastard. In short terms, he'd become a tick. He'd become a tick's tick.

Fucking beautiful.

To make matters worst, he'd already been caught redhanded in some embarrassingly compromising situations because of this same bodged espionage of his.

While rummaging through one of Byakuya's drawers in search of any incriminating evidence towards his supposed affair (Renji's idea), said same drawer coincidentally housing the guy's underwear, the bastard had felt almost instinctively compelled to waltz in on Ichigo apparently admiring one of his briefs.

Ichigo was forced to endure the 'personal boundaries' talk with his mother that day.

His extra keen inspections of a near-nude Byakuya before and after his baths (in search of any new or recurring love marks) had landed him in yet another uncomfortable sit-down with his mother _and_ stepfather this time, that, though not implicitly, may as well have put to question his love of vaginas as per his desire to 'talk things out'.

Suffice it to say Byakuya seldom used their bathroom anymore. Which was, admittedly, not such a sore loss.

Thankfully, Ichigo's self-depredating exploits had borne fruit to some encouraging details. For starters, he'd discovered that the hickeys hadn't gone anywhere, they continued sprouting like buds in Spring. And their locations...Shit. His 'bug theory' had been utterly scrapped. Byakuya's visitations to the Kyoraku household were almost daily, post Student Council meetings, like clockwork, roughly 5:30 pm to 7:00 pm, conveniently avoiding Shunsui's arrival which typically occurred an hour later. Byakuya's phone calls were also indecipherable. The guy may as well have been speaking in morse code. And as typical as that may have sounded, Ichigo wasn't buying it.

There was no longer a doubt in Ichigo's mind regarding the entire arrangement. What he lacked now was solid proof; hands in the cookie jar of sorts. But he was so close to victory he could practically taste it.

'_ Maybe they'd send him off to boarding school'._ he optimistically wondered. Ichigo had already looked into a few, in case they required some input.

Ichigo smiled to himself.

Things were finally looking up.

OOO

"What?" Ichigo muttered incredulously, eyes glued to the exam paper at hand. "You can't be serious..."

Kurotsuchi tilted his head. "I am not one for jokes."

"B-but I mean, I studied for this one I did -how did-why?"

"If this is your idea of studying," The chemistry teacher snatched the pamphlet from Ichigo's hands, leafed through it wearily. Kurotsuchi heaved a breath through his nose. "This is unacceptable. Where exactly has your head been during my lectures?"

Ichigo watched his feet in silence.

"Kurosaki, let me assure you, if this is what I can continue to expect from you in my class, you will be back here during your summer break. And as thrilling as that may sound for the both of us," Sarcasm oozed from his words like water. " I'd much rather you not.

"But since it is clear as daylight that _my_ lectures would be easier taught to a dolphin whom even _without_ the same human psychology and use of opposable thumbs could mangle up far more accurate responses to these problems than those you have provided, I figure your best next option is attending after school sessions with the visiting Chemistry teacher."

Ichigo's gaze shot up. "After-school?!"

Kurotsuchi's eyes narrowed gravelly, a pale finger twisting a strand of dark blue hair. "After-school."

OOO

Renji clicked his tongue while walking beside Ichigo. "Think on the bright side, 'least you won't have to waste yer summer. Right?"

"Whatever." Ichigo mumbled, kicking a small pebble in his stride.

Thing was, even if there was a teacher who could somehow magically jumpstart the part of his brain that actually gave a single fuck about science, he gravely doubted a month would be enough time to dig him out of the dirt-hole.

The teen sighed forlornly, rubbing his shoulder. There went his summer.

"Shudda followed my example, man." Shiro commented.

Ichigo glanced over at the albino whose hands now locked behind his neck and teeth cracked wide in a proud grin. Ichigo shook his head. A world class cheater that one was and he wouldn't go a day without throwing it in your face. Ichigo found himself wishing his moral compass was as askew as that of his buddies'.

When Ichigo's house came into view as they rounded the block, Renji suddenly perked.

"By the way, how's the whole Byakuya operation goin'?"

Ichigo squinted his eyes, finding the sun's glare directly in front of them now.

"Same ol,"

"Same ol as in?"

Ichigo pursed his lips with a suck of the teeth. "Same ol as in zilch. Nada." He looked towards his neighbor's approaching home. "Not yet at least."

"Well when do ya plan on getting' to it?"

Ichigo cocked a rotten brow. "I'm sorry, guess I just haven't had the time." He turned to the tattooed male, pointing his thumb at the nearby home. "You wanna do me the favor of just waltzing in there for me? 'Cause ya can. Just walk _right_ up in there. With a camcorder if ya want. I'd appreciate it Ren, really."

Renji coughed a snort of a laugh.

"Chill alright? Point taken."

"With what ye've got so far, I'd nail him as is." Shiro scoffed. " I ain't no Einstein but what the fuck else could it be?"

"Yeah you def ain't no Einstein." Renji cackled with a scratch of his chest.

"How 'bout ye suck it?"

"Ya wish."

Ichigo heaved a breath, stopping in front of his house. "I'll think of something guys, alright?" As of right now the matter felt of least importance.

"Whatever man, it's your deal." Renji extended a fist, which Ichigo returned with a solid punch, before continuing off down the block with the albino in tow.

"See ya." Shiro flicked his hand once in the air.

Ichigo exhaled deeply again, raking a hand down his face. He looked up when he noticed a familiar jeep wheel into the neighbor's garage. From within, a man wearing a bright paisley shirt that should have been a crime to even manufacture, stepped out. Noticing Ichigo's observant eyes, the man, Shunsui, waved a friendly hand, the usual serene, somewhat sleepy, smile coasting his lips.

Ichigo felt an inexplicable pang of guilt.

He wasn't even the one fucking the man's wife and he still felt uneasy by his presence.

With a swallow, Ichigo returned the greeting, awkwardly shifting on his feet.

Ichigo watched as the man disappeared inside his home, before Ichigo turned, continuing off to his own dwelling.

No doubt, Byakuya wouldn't be showing his face there today.

Upon entering the house, a harsh stench wafted past Ichigo's nose. He sniffed with a cringe.

Ichigo stumbled into the kitchen, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

Karin and his mother fanned a pan strewing thick, dark smoke with a towel before tossing the metal casserole dish inside the sink with a heavy clink.

"Don't worry sweetie, you'll get it soon." His mother comfortingly rubbed the small girl's shoulders.

Karin huffed and stomped her foot, cheeks bright. "I don't even care! This is stupid!"

"Karin!"

The girl stormed off heatedly without as much as a glance to her freshly-arrived older brother whose brow only latched at the display.

His mother sighed, shooting Ichigo a mild smile. "Hey sweetie,"

"Hey ma..." he greeted, plopping down on the stool beside the kitchen counter. "What was that about?"

Masaki rested her elbows atop the sturdy surface, wiping a stray brown strand from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "There's this boy your sister's got a bit of a crush on and -"

Ichigo rested his chin atop his palm with a knowing smirk. "Mhm."

"I suggested she try baking him something and well..." She gestured behind herself without a word, the edges of her lips quirking. Shaking her head, she rubbed her forehead.

"Was it chocolate?" Ichigo remarked, eyeing the singed pan.

Another sigh from the woman provided the answer.

Ichigo choked back a laugh.

"So, how was school?" his mother suddenly asked, turning her back to him and dousing the pan with faucet water.

Ichigo nibbled on the inside of his cheek, eyes flickering to the jar of sugar beside him.

"Uh yeah, it was...fine,"

"I got the call from your chemistry teacher, you know."

Ichigo looked up.

Masaki now faced him. "Sweetie, why didn't you tell me you were having problems with school?"

Ichigo's finger drew idle circles into the counter. "It's no big deal, just that one class."

"Yes, but that one class is enough to hold you back." Lifting back from the sink, Masaki crossed over to her son, arms folded. "Sweetie, why don't you just ask your brother for help? His academics are-"

"Jesus christ ma," Ichigo blanched, shooting up from his seat like a hellborn slinky.

With a stiff sigh, the woman shook her head. "Why don't you just try to get along with him?"

"You know what? Even if I wanted to-" He didn't. "I don't think it'd work out."

An uncaring shrug later, Ichigo was stalking out of the kitchen, nearly quivering at the word his mother had used to regard the little monster.

"Ichigo," she called out after him.

OOO

Ichigo was rifling through his Chemistry workbook, wondering just how any of this would hold any relevance in his upcoming years in life, to which no valid response came.

"Brother my ass." he mumbled to himself, still bitter and glaring at the material unfurled before him. Mostly because if Byakuya weren't such an incorrigible douche, and were actually the brother his mother made him out to be, Ichigo wouldn't have to currently be pulling the will and brainpower from straight out of his ass to try and understand this crap on his own. It was like a foreign fucking language and Ichigo was Mr. Illiterate.

Grumbling resentfully, he tossed the booklet aside, a dulled thud barely echoing across the bedroom as it slid across the carpeted floor and beneath the bed across from his.

Ichigo sprawled out flat on his bed, arm tucked beneath his neck.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? Blind studying was about as helpful as, well, just that. Entirely useless. The knowledge just wasn't there. The interest...He could laugh. Almost. Because he was still fucked.

His friends were barely making the grade by the skin of their teeth as well. Assistance from them was out of the question. The only one who was making off slightly more unscathed was Shiro, and well, that was that. Rukia hadn't yet taken the class and Byakuya...

'_Son of a bitch...'_

Yeah. He was fucked.

Ichigo groaned in displeasure and flipped over onto his stomach. Face dug inside his pillow, he bitterly mused.

_'The little bastard had aced the class too.'_

It took about a minute, two tops, for Ichigo's head to jolt up.

Byakuya _took_ and _aced_ the class. Of course.

Ichigo scrambled off his bed, stumbling on his sneakers in the process, and towards the small bookshelf occupying 'Byakuya's side' of the bedroom. He skimmed the titles, fingers grazing each paperback and hardcover. Nothing. He veered to the crates much to neatly stacked to one side of the shelve, equally congested with various volumes. The twerp owned more books than your local library. He chucked the irrelevant aside and across the floor (something that admittedly felt damn good, after having his own belongings reaped through like garbage) and continued sifting until his eyes swelled joyously at the sight of one familiar paperback.

Of course someone as neurotically compulsive as Byakuya would keep his old workbooks.

Ichigo scanned the pages and well... it was damn beautiful. Damn beautiful indeed.

Fuck his moral compass.

Cheating once wouldn't hurt anyone, would it? And damn it all if it wouldn't feel good to mooch off of Byakuya for once. Kind of thrilling actually. The bastard deserved it anyway.

Grinning, Ichigo organized what he'd disheveled in his previous frenzy as best he could. He ducked down beneath Byakuya's bed, hand outstretching in search of his own strayed booklet. He shimmied into the dark crevice, hands feeling up the surroundings, surprisingly empty, unlike his own (in which Ichigo knew he'd probably come across a piece of his PB and J sandwich from last month), until his hand fell on a rigid form and he dragged it out.

Dusting himself off, Ichigo glanced at what he'd just hauled. A small black box (maybe 10 inches lengthwise, 3 or 4 of height), no outstanding features, labeling, nothing. Just a box, casually tossed beneath a bed...

He didn't have to be Sherlock to know when some purposeful prying was in order.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Ichigo popped the lid off. His brow curved in inspection. A small bottle of sorts, labeling had been scratched off. Some lengthy things. Was that plastic? One looked like glass. Looked kind of familiar too. Strangely familiar. Kind of like...

"Agh! shit! What the fuck!"Ichigo suddenly yelped, flinging the box away and crawling back on his legs and arms like a crab.

Yeah he recognized the damn thing. He fucking _had_ one. Ichigo briefly glanced down at his groin.

The back of his palm stuck to his lips and his brows scrunched twixt his nose. He inhaled deeply.

Alright. No big deal. Just a box of dicks, and whatever the fuck that round beady thing was. Sure. No biggy.

No biggy at all-

In a slapdash, he rammed the box shut, flung it back to wherever the hell it'd come from and staggered out of the room woozy as almighty hell.

OOO

Ichigo didn't come back home till 10 o'clock that night. When he did, he avoided everyone like a plague.

He didn't look at Byakuya, slipped straight into bed, and prayed to god his thoughts would ease up enough to allow him to get some rest.

They didn't.

That night, Ichigo had pretty dreams of Byakuya's and Nanao-san's secret 'love' adventures.

OOO

"You look like hell," Tatsuki commented the next day at school, prodding Ichigo's shoulder with her pencil from the desk beside his.

Ichigo stared off into space.

Because dicks. And Byakuya. And round thing. And dicks.

"Ichigo,"

He hadn't mentioned his discovery to anyone yet. How the hell could he? He was still trying to process it all himself.

Not much to process though.

But the images.

'_Oh god.'_

Ichigo stifled a groan.

During yesterday's breather, after his unnerving finding and hasty exit. There'd been a slight upturn in his spirits, short lived, but there. Because if this wasn't finalizing, gavel down, information, then Ichigo didn't know what was. And he sure as hell doubted he'd be coming across Byakuya and Nanao romping right in their living room table anytime soon as the stamp of approval for the entire melange. So he figured this was as close as he was going to get.

Besides, affair aside, a box of dildos was about as perfect a revenge material on its own as any.

Thing was, no matter how many times Ichigo re-ran it, an appropriate method of disclosure failed to come to mind.

_So uh Sojun, Ma, Byakuya's sort of shagging our neighbor. Yeah mhm. The pretty brunette next door married to the sweets guy. How do I know? Well I just found their trove of goodies. And actually, let me explain..._

Or perhaps,

_I was sorta gonna cheat my way to a passing grade in Chemistry when I - wait no, don't worry about that, it didn't happen, listen. Scoping through Byakuya's things, you wouldn't believe what I came across..._

Right.

Where were the cojones when you needed them?

Byakuya sure as hell didn't need any incentive. And hell Ichigo had enough incentive as it stood. But he couldn't do it. Damn it all when things finally came down to it, he may as well have had nothing.

Beautiful.

"Remember guys, for homework, the readings on page. 326, sections 3 and 4. " his literature teacher finalized.

Ichigo had been too preoccupied with his own thoughts to hear the last period bell ring.

"Yeah, something's definitely up. Spill." Tatsuki said as she dragged Ichigo up off his seat by the shoulders. "What's going on with you?"

Ichigo stared up from his daze.

"Hm? Nothing just...tired."

Tatsuki cocked her hip, arms tucked before her chest, face not buying it.

"Seriously Tats."

"You guys just gonna stay in here?" Renji called from beside the door, flinging his book bag to and fro.

Ichigo slung his bag over his shoulder and with a pat to the girl's shoulder, sauntered over to Renji and exited the classroom.

Outside, Orihime shuffled towards them, smiling brightly and waving.

"Kurosaki-kun! Tatsuki-chan!"

Behind them, Chizuru, a pink-haired bespectacled girl, grinned in her own form of greeting, though Ichigo wasn't sure if it was directed at him or Inoue's tail-side. Probably the latter.

He greeted with a simple nod.

Staring holes at the side of Ichigo's head, Tatsuki asked,

"So Ichigo, you hittin' up the arcade with us today?" In her own pseudo form of stating, 'come with us, so I can prod ya'.

"Unfortunately our buddy here's gotta stay behind today," Renji was the one to answer with a sympathetic punch to the side of Ichigo's shoulder.

Ichigo sighed. He'd almost forgotten.

"Seriously?" Tatsuki mumbled.

"Sorta,"

Tatsuki hummed. "Well that sucks."

"Nah, it's fine. I'll just see you guys tomorrow."

"You hang in there buddy," Renji dramatically murmured with a rough shake of Ichigo's shoulders before grinning and waving off. His friends followed behind, bidding their own 'see you laters'.

"Chizuru?" Ichigo abruptly asked.

The girl stopped and spun back to face him. "Yeah?"

"You goin' too?"

"Well, yeah. Orihime-chan needs protection."

Ichigo's brow arched at the response.

"Don't you have council meetings today?"

"Nope. No meetings the last two weeks. We pick up again next week for the summer festival." Another farewell wave and she turned to the busty redhead in front of her, something lecherous in her regard. "Orihime-chan~ wait for me~."

_'No meetings?'_ Ichigo thought.

"Kurosaki,"

Ichigo snapped up, catching his Chemistry teacher now standing directly in front of him.

"Room 205." Kurotsuchi stated with a pointed index finger in the classroom's direction and amusement tinging his words. "Have fun."

Ichigo sighed and dejectedly made his way towards it, shooting one final look behind him.

'_No meetings?'_

OOO

Ichigo paced down the sidewalk -the supplementary class having ended at 5 - in pensive silence, on occasion nearly crashing into some incoming pedestrians, his mind slightly out of it.

Ichigo would love to say he'd paid attention in the class today or that he'd actually managed to learn something. The teacher hadn't been half bad after all, aside from being a little eccentric -wearing clogs and all- he was still more manageable than Kurotsuchi.

He didn't though. Not a damn thing. And most of it could be attributed to Byakuya, though he hated having to admit it.

Because his brain continued swashing the small Student Council detail back and forth as though it should serve some purpose in his mind. And it just may have. Because if Student Council meetings weren't what had kept Byakuya occupied all these days two hours after dismissal before his usual rendezvous at the Kyoraku household (Ichigo's shameless stalking being of testament to it), then what was? And why lie about it?

Ichigo didn't even know why he cared, but he couldn't map it.

Couple in his brain's current inability to ease up with the explicit visuals (fruit of yesterday's discovery) that had driven his gag reflexes in an eternal state of upheaval, his attention had been kept dutifully occupied.

The kid knew how to mess with him without even trying.

Ichigo swallowed a breath, continuing on his route and chewing down on his lip, head brimming.

As he neared his home, three blocks away, he turned down the usual block he often favored as opposed to the much rowdier establishment-jammed street opposite it, when he stopped suddenly dead on his track.

Because he'd be damned.

Lips hinging open, Ichigo noticed two familiar forms pressed up against each other beside the concrete fencing of one of the homes lining the street, lips almost boldly locked and mingling, hands barely restrained.

The lips parted after what felt like a millennium (at least to the stunned Ichigo who could only stand back, slack-jawed) and he watched his fellow classmate, Ishida something, run his fingers down the recognizable head of lengthy raven tresses, before parting, by the looks of it exchanging few words, and continuing opposite Ichigo's intended route, deviating, then vanishing down the side block.

Ichigo didn't move. _Couldn't_ move for the life of him. He only stood there, watching the familiar kid like a dunce.

The familiar fucking kid.

And then their eyes met.

And horror-specked grey irises jarred wide.

* * *

AN: I apologize for any errors you may have come across. Wrote this one on my Ipad without the use of Word, being that my computer is a bit incapacitated at the moment. Will revise things later as I continue to come across them.

To Wyrrel: :3 huehue..you just don't know _where_ the fuck I'm coming from anymore do you now? Lol

_Thanks for reading~_

_Till the next_


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